


hidden in his coat (is a red right hand)

by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)



Series: Red Right Hand 'verse [2]
Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Polar (2019), Trial & Retribution (TV)
Genre: Assassins, Buttplugs, Cock Ring, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Genderfluid Character, Gun Violence, Handcuffs, JustFuckMeUp, Kinky sex, M/M, PWP, Phone Sex, Porn-Without-Plot, Rentboys, Roberto Bellini/Duncan Vizla, Roberto is genderfluid/gender non-conforming, Vibrators, cross dressing, duncan bottoming from the top, duncan gets his b-card stamped, it's not a big deal, kiiiinda graphic death of an unimportant oc in the first quarter of the fic, return of the sexworker au, roberto topping from the bottom, tw: blood (not much), tw: gun violence, using toys, very very mild allusion to shoe fetish? Maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 16:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils
Summary: Duncan makes his excuses to run into Roberto in Paris. This is an excellent decision.





	hidden in his coat (is a red right hand)

**Author's Note:**

> This is our contribution to this year's #justfuckmeup, some pretty filthy porn-with-hint-of-plot. In this fic, we establish a bit more about Roberto's gender identity and past in general.
> 
> For the record, this is not meant to be a realistic depiction of a sex worker - we understand that this is a highly stylised, almost cliche depiction - but we promise that is intentional and not a reflection of our views on sex-work, nor is it intended as a realistic insight. By all means communicate if anything here doesn't work for you. <3 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. We look forward to your feedback. 
> 
> L & Deadly xoxo

Duncan finds Roberto in the private back room of a very esteemed hotel in Paris, draped in a black fur coat and nearly unrecognizable for a moment in pin curls and lipstick. He's perched in a lap, alternating between smoking a cigarette and daintily drinking champagne, and Duncan watches him for a moment from the doorway with renewed intrigue while he waits to be noticed.

Something in the way Roberto conducts business is unlike any sex worker Duncan has come across before. There’s no weary fear, no jaded struggle to make ends meet – an almost genuine love for the sordid necessity compels him, like Holly Golightly gone bad.

It’s more fascinating than Duncan would like to admit to himself.

He'd sent a brief message the other day - _In town on business, could use your skill set._ It’s not necessary, but he knows Roberto frequents these parts, and he’s… curious.

Roberto had simply replied the name of the hotel they’re in now, and now Duncan is here, and Roberto's hair is shining in the light of twinkling chandeliers as he tosses his head back in a laugh and runs his fingers through the hair on the nape of his client's neck. Visible from the lushly decorated third-floor bar, the Eiffel tower and the Seine glitter in the lights of the rising evening.

Duncan’s seen it all before.

As the client leans in to kiss the column of his pale throat, Roberto's eyes flick to the doorway; to Duncan. He smiles and leans in to lick the shell of the man's ear. Whispers something, and then slips off his lap and cants his head in the direction of the washrooms.

Duncan sighs, wandering to the bar and studying the menu for a moment before following.

Roberto is perched on the edge of the polished stone sink counters, spotlights making his usually soft face more severe, casting the shadow of sharp black lashes against his cheeks. The golden details light him up warmly.

Duncan pauses, then turns the lock on the door. "Hello, Roberto."

"Bonjour." He smiles at Duncan with a knowing sort of approval, hands folding delicately in his lap, long bare legs stretched out and one heel dangling off his toes. He’s wearing a pale beaded dress that gapes prettily in a deep V down his pale, soft chest. He makes it look both casual and debauched. “How did you know I was in Paris?”

“It’s somewhat my job to know. It was a happy coincidence my work brought me here.”

“Oh. And you just popped by for a chat?”

Duncan considers him, then moves in front of him, dips to one knee and carefully fits his court shoe back onto his foot, as if in a fairytale. "Got a job you might be interested in."

"Explain," Roberto says crisply.

"A target. Very important, high security. Your usual."

"Do I already know him, perhaps?" Roberto asks.

A short shrug. "You might. You have certainly moved onto a higher caliber of client since our last liaison."

Roberto waves a casual hand. "I'm good at what I do."

"So I see. Nothing came of your contact with the last hit?"

"I wasn't exactly on the room registry," Roberto looks at his nails.

"Of course."

Pleasantries exchanged, Duncan quickly summarizes his mark's background and the fee he's willing to pay Roberto if he accepts, the former: an embezzler in a high-stakes accounting firm who’s stolen from the wrong people, the latter: a lot.

He considers the generous offer, and Duncan knows he'll do it even before he says, "And what happens when the job is done?"

"What would you... like to happen?" Duncan replies.

"I was thinking we could get dinner," Roberto quips, "two-for-one movie deal. Romantic walk by the river."

"I could perhaps make a convincing case for room service," Duncan replies.

"Pay per view at least?"

"Perhaps." Duncan smiles briefly. "Will you be wearing... this?"

"Depends if I'll get beaten up by your friend." His smile turns sly. "Do you like it?"

A pause. Duncan finds the notion of being one of Roberto's drooling customers more irksome than he'd allowed himself to consider. "You look more comfortable like this." Roberto shrugs, and Duncan shuffles his feet. "Is it - I'm not sure of the terminology. Should I call you anything else?"

Roberto's lips twitch. "He or they are both fine, as long as you call..."

"Noted." Duncan hesitates, wondering if he's offended him, but Roberto's smile grows.

"You're the strangest hitman I've ever met, Duncan."

"How many have you met, precisely?"

"No comment."

"Well," Duncan sighs. "You seem...busy...so why don't you give me a call tomorrow?"

"No need. You send me the hit, and when and where, and I'll be there." He sounds insultingly casual; just as cool as ever.

"That's fine," Duncan nods, feeling unaccountably stung. It must show, because Roberto wets his crimson lips.

"Unless you just want to hear my voice," he says, softly.

"Have I given you an indication that I wouldn't?"

"Well, I haven't heard from you until now."

"And vice versa," Duncan reminds him.

"Suppose not."

Duncan takes a chance and steps closer. Roberto lets his thighs drape open with an impish grin. It's a clear invitation. Duncan bites his lip. His hands go to the slim waist under the fur.

"Ohh, you've missed me," Roberto chuckles.

"I certainly haven't met anyone like you." Duncan leans in. He stalls when Roberto puts his fingertips against his chin.

"Don't muss me," he whispers.

Duncan touches his lips to his throat instead. He feels the hitch of Roberto's breath; his fingertips slipping into his hair. Not unaffected.

"I should get back," he says, quietly.

"Go. Call me if you'd like," Duncan murmurs.

"Call me if _you'd_ like," he echoes back, slipping down off the counter. He wears his act like every movie star depiction of a hooker with a heart of gold, fluffing his hair and then blowing Duncan one last kiss.

Duncan watches the sway in his step until he's out the door and out of sight, and wonders absently if that’s genuinely where the mannerisms come from – they’re certainly not his own. Duncan has seen enough flashes of those cold blue eyes unguarded to know that.

Thoughtful, he takes a slow breath, then takes his leave.

*

Returning to his own hotel – a considerable downgrade from Roberto’s digs tonight - he lets himself into the minibar and liberates all the reasonably drinkable bottles. Then he sends down for another bottle when those are gone, smoking on the balcony whilst half-watching French cooking shows on the TV.

At some point, he falls into bed and then, a fitful sleep. The TV is still running when he becomes aware of the phone buzzing on his bedside. He fumbles for the remote and phone both, squinting at the time. Four in the morning.

When he finally flips his phone open, he's not much more awake. "What?"

"What sort of a greeting is that, Duncan?" purrs a singular voice.

He blinks a few times into the gloom. "Roberto-?"

"The very same."

Now he's awake. "Didn't think you'd call so soon."

"You sounded like you needed a pick-me-up."

Duncan smirks up at the ceiling. "I had one, it was in my minibar."

"Oh, well I can go if you like..."

"Don't you dare." He says it more gently than he wishes to. Roberto still laughs.

"I thought not. You looked good tonight, Duncan."

"So did you."

"Mm." Roberto hums. "What was your favorite part?"

"Difficult to say. I liked all of it."

"The hair and makeup is a pain," Roberto replies lazily.

"Worth it." Duncan swallows. "I liked your shoes."

"Thought you did. What else, Duncan?"

"Your legs. The dress."

"Mm. Will you do something for me?”

“All right.” He fails to keep it from sounding uncertain.

“Good. Imagine your hands on me again, then. Just like before, sliding under my coat."

Considering for a moment, Duncan takes a slow breath. It's easy to imagine it; his hands still remember the soft fabric. "Okay."

"That was easy," Roberto sounds amused.

"You didn't expect it to be?"

"You don't seem the playful type."

"I'm not," Duncan allows, "usually." He sighs softly, and gathers his thoughts.

“Play with me then, Daddy. What are you imagining now?”

"My hands are on your waist, Roberto. You smell like raw honey and spices."

"Your hands feel good," Roberto assures him softly, "hot and firm."

"It's almost better," Duncan whispers, "to touch you through the fabric."

"Why's that?"

"I like... the way it moves over your skin..."

"Thinking about sliding it up?"

"Yes," Duncan whispers.

"Want me to describe what I was wearing underneath?"

"I know what you're wearing underneath," Duncan tells him.

"What am I wearing then, Daddy?"

"Lace," Duncan can see it. "White lace. Practically nothing, just enough."

"Just enough but still too much, right?"

"Is that how it feels?" Duncan asks softly.

"God yes. I want you to take them off with your teeth." A soft breath, then he asks, "are you touching yourself yet, Duncan?"

"No, should I be?"

"Well... yes, of course."

Duncan smiles a bit at that. "Tell me some more about what I should do to _you_ first."

"That mouth of yours," Roberto purrs. "I imagine you'll want to taste my thighs while you're in between them."

"Of course. To feel your skin."

"Right down to my shiny heels," Roberto adds.

Duncan hums softly. "Yes, and back up again."

"It feels so good, Daddy. Now put that perfect mouth where you want it on me."

Duncan closes his eyes against the blooming stain of desire, spreading through him like dark water. "I'd ruin your pretty underwear," he murmurs, half a joke.

"Good, I want you to." He makes a soft, satisfied little sound. "Stroke your cock for me now, Duncan. Tell me how hard you are."

He is, more than anticipated, the purring voice creeping through his veins and sweeping away all the cheap liquor. "Pretty hard," he assures, palming the swell of his cock through his shorts, shaping himself slowly.

"We can do better."

"Be my guest."

"You're kissing me, Duncan, feeling how hard I am through my pretty lace, tasting me through the whiskey on your breath. I tell you to take them off, and you know exactly how to do it, because I already told you."

He takes a deep breath, nodding even though he's alone. "And then I lie you down and taste you everywhere else, mm? Let you ride my tongue until you want more."

"You're so good with your mouth," Roberto murmurs. "And I bet you’d love to have me fucking your face."

That winds him with unexpected want. "I – I would. On top of me with your hands in my hair."

Roberto hums in agreement. "I'm so wet from your mouth, you know I'm ready for you, but all you do is moan, because you want me to use you."

Breathing heavily now, Duncan swears softly, finally pushing his shorts down around his thighs to get a hand on his cock. He's never had someone talk to him like this before. "How else would you use me?"

"I'd spread you out on my mattress, just to look at you, how rudely that cock of yours stands up for me. Want me to ride it?"

"Is that what you want to do, Roberto?"

"I'll do whatever you _ask_ me to do, Daddy."

Giving his cock a few long, slow squeezes, Duncan exhales heavy through his nose. "Ignore it," he growls softly. "I need your fingers first."

"Do you now?" His voice takes on a note of scandal. "Where abouts?"

"Y-you know where."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't."

Ask. Right. Duncan groans softly. "In my ass, gorgeous. Please."

A breathless little noise at that. "God, Daddy. Go on, tell me properly what you want me to do."

"Give me your fingers, sink them in. Make me feel you inside." He hears a little, wet click of skin on skin and can't bite back his groan. "You like that?"

"Duncan, god yes."

"I asked," Duncan murmurs, a bit of a whine slipping in.

"I know, and you can have what you want. I'd love to watch you take my fingers. Show me what you sound like."

Stroking himself in earnest now, Duncan lets out a low, short moan, toes curling in the sheets, thighs tensing.

"Good," Roberto coos. "Go faster for me, but listen carefully. I want to let you hear something."

"Yes," Duncan breathes. He strains, and there's a faint scuffle of movement, and then a soft, constant buzz; the unmistakable groan of surprised pleasure. "Berto," he groans.

"Mhm? Like that?"

"I want to see," he breathes.

"You can see -" he sounds out of breath, unusually scattered, "when we're together."

Duncan whines again, grip tightening. "Tell me what it is."

"No, I think it ought to be a surprise." Grunting his disagreement, Duncan's hand starts moving faster as Roberto makes a soft, high noise. "Feels _so_ good though, I promise you that."

"Yes," Duncan agrees tightly.

"Are you feeling good, Duncan?" Roberto purrs. "Are you still thinking about my fingers working you open? I could - ah - I could use something else if you liked." When Duncan whines again, he laughs softly. "A plug, maybe? To hold you open while I ride you?"

"Roberto-"

"I can keep my dress on," Roberto promises, "and if you can wait until I'm done, I'll see if I can't make you come just with that, mm?"

" _Please_ ," Duncan blurts. He almost cuts the call off in his distraction, hips arching off the bed as he fucks the circle of his fist in rough motions, so close he can feel the first notes of it singing down his thighs.

"Go on, Daddy," Roberto purrs as Duncan groans, "make a mess of yourself."

He thinks of making a mess of Roberto as he comes; the satisfaction he'd see in his eyes. It escapes as a low groan.

"That sounded like it felt good," Roberto says in his ear, sounding for all the world like a devil on his shoulder.

"It did," Duncan whispers.

"Mm, good. Would you like to hear me come now?"

"Please, Berto, please." It comes out in a rush, all the startled, fresh pleasure of this new dynamic making him needy for more.

"Okay, I'm - ah, rubbing myself so slowly against the sheets, hardly need to with this inside me. I keep stopping to, fuck, to give it a little nudge."

Vibrator, Duncan thinks dizzily, or maybe a plug. He can picture both. It's enough make his spent dick twitch slightly.

"I have to admit," Roberto continues softly, "I'd love the real thing right about now."

"Me too," Duncan breathes. Then he adds, on an afterthought, "your last client didn't-?"

"Oh, we're curious now?"

"Just surprised."

"Some of them prefer the other way round, you know. Or the bag of tricks." Roberto's voice still has a hitch to it. "And not all of them are as concerned about me coming as you are."

"I need you to," Duncan tells him. "I want to hear it."

"Talk to me, then. Tell me what you'd like to see."

"I want to see you teasing yourself," Duncan mutters. "Not anyone else. Not even me."

"Teasing myself how?"

"Use your toy," Duncan says. "I want to listen."

A shivery breath sounds down the receiver, and there's a little shuffle of movement before Roberto moans softly.

"Yes," Duncan whispers.

Barely perceptible, the vibrations from before increase in volume; intensity. "Oh," Roberto breathes, high and choked.

"Good," Duncan praises. "That's so good. I can hear how good."

"Yeah," Roberto sounds a little scattered, finally, "yeah it's good, _oh_. Fuck, fuck, it's there, right there -"

"Perfect," Duncan urges, "go on."

"Fuck -" Roberto's voice twists high and strained. Another frantic few little shuffling sounds, and then he cries out.

Duncan makes another sympathetic little hum, his body trying to respond. Listening to him is near torture. He doesn't know if he can wait until after the hit. But he's got to.

"Fuck," he hears Roberto say faintly.

"Mess up your pretty dress?" Duncan rumbles.

"A trip to the dry cleaners might be in order, yeah."

"Send me the bill," Duncan replies.

"You think I can't afford my own dry cleaning, Daddy?"

"Think I make offers I intend to take back?"

"Absolutely not." He takes another breath that Duncan can hear. "God, that was good."

"Yeah," Duncan murmurs. He listens to the unmistakable sounds of Roberto cleaning up; settling down and stretching out.

"Still feeling fuzzy around the edges, Duncan?"

"Much sharper now."

"Sharp enough to talk business?"

Duncan frowns at that, thrown by the abruptness. "I suppose."

"Give me the name of the mark?" Roberto asks.

"Samuel Augusten. He's the vice president of some big company, embezzling funds."

"I remember. And how does he like his rent boys?" Roberto asks.

"Expensive. Aggressive."

"Aggressive as in slapping him around, or as in coming on strong?"

"As in... handcuffs."

Roberto hums. "Easy enough, then. I gift wrap him, you shoot him. Unless you want me to do that part too."

Something in his tone speaks of a reluctance despite his words. Duncan keeps his own neutral. "No, I don't want you to do that part."

"I could," Roberto replies, like he's merely discussing giving Duncan a ride home. "But as you wish." A little hum, like he's reigning in relief. "Anyway, this was fun."

"Yes," Duncan murmurs. "Liaise with me when it’s set up and I’ll have your back, Roberto."

"All right, beautiful." He sounds like he's smiling. "Sleep well."

"And you," Duncan says softly, and then the line disconnects.

//

Roberto wakes late and checks his phone, mostly out of habit. He knows he's already got an assignation tonight. There's a message from an unknown number - Duncan.

He's been businesslike ever since their call the other night. Roberto is fine with that - this is, after all, a business transaction. But as ever, he's in it for the tip. Even more so than usual, he thinks.

So much so, in fact, that he makes up a section specially in his duffel bag before he starts to get ready. Sizing up the hit had been easy: the target is a regular cruiser of all the main hotspots in Roberto's line of work, and it had been nothing to slip him a business card in the bathrooms. The mark hadn't even waited until the next day to organize an appointment. Roberto tipped Duncan off, Duncan rolled him a deposit, easy.

This one - unlike Roberto's date from the other night - has requested discretion, which is for the best, really, considering the end of his assignation. Now, satisfied things are under control, Roberto shoulders his bag and heads out.

He takes a cab to the hotel and makes his way to the room number he's been given. He knocks lightly when he gets to the room, checking his reflection in the polished brass of the door plate. His concession to his otherwise nondescript public appearance is a nearly-translucent silk shirt, half-hidden under his blazer. There's more in the bag, but frankly, that's not for the likes of this guy.

The door opens, and the businessman opens the door with a nervous little look around. "Come in," he beckons. For all that he cruises regularly, he seems jumpy. Stress of work must be getting to him, Roberto thinks, suppressing a smirk.

"Merci, Monsieur Augusten." He walks straight through to the bedroom, throwing his blazer off toward the couch on the way. "Would you like to get started right away? Do you need anything?" He turns around, arranging himself on the foot of the bed to wait.

A mute shake of his head. Roberto smiles.

"You need to relax, big guy. Tell me what will help you relax."

He watches Augusten take a deep breath, then gesture to the bed; a bundle of soft nylon ropes, various bedroom accoutrements.

"I'd like you to tie me up."

"I can do that." Roberto leans back on his hands. "Then what, darling?"

He has to admit, he's feeling pricked with want, just a little, but it's with a specific flavor of anticipation that he's only felt a few times before. It's certainly not for this pale, harassed man in front of him. Roberto looks him up and down, growing bored by his indecision.

"Strip," he orders haughtily and gets up, doing a lazy stretch. "And then sit up against the headboard with your arms out."

Roberto has worked this hotel before, and dozens like it. It's the work of moments to find anchors for the ropes the mark has brought, and to tie Monsieur Augusten fast. He puts in the work to make it sexy, at least, just so the poor sap isn't suspecting something's up. And then he settles into his lap with a hum, balling his tie up, pressing it gently into his willing mouth and tying it in place with a handkerchief from the bedside.

"Test that for me, my darling. Check it's nice and tight."

Augusten obediently flexes his arms, moves his head beneath the gag, and Roberto pets his thinning hair. Nothing shifts, of course, because he's a fucking professional.

"Perfect," he praises, making a little circle with his hips, then pulling another length of rope into his hands, debating.

Contrary to what his criminal record says, and to opinions of the jury who sentenced him, Roberto has never physically killed anyone. _Acting_ on violent compulsions isn't his thing - it's watching them. He trails the end of the rope down Augusten’s chest while he thinks. His mind retraces steps back to when he'd first seen Duncan step in through the open French doors like a nightmare cut loose, one smooth arc of movement between alive and dead. He bites his lip, and with it a little moan.

"I can wait," he promises Augusten, "not long now." He lets himself smirk. "You just keep being good."

He considers again, and thinks of the nearly invisible tine of jealousy in Duncan's voice on the phone that night, when he'd asked if Roberto's client had made him come. The pleasure that brought him alone is enough to compel him to start to rock slowly in Augusten's lap, stripping his shirt off over his head. The man whimpers, eyes avid over the gag.

"That's it, darling. Stay nice and still for me. If you can be very good, I've got a surprise for you."

He bites his lip and circles his palms over his chest slowly, then pauses when he hears the door click open behind him, turning to peek over his shoulder.

"Took you long enough," he says, conversationally.

"Impatient, are we?" Duncan answers from the doorway.

He feels Augusten jerk beneath him and looks back. "Please wait, the adults are talking," he says sweetly.

A noise of fear, and another surge of movement. Roberto bites down on his laughter as the mark starts to thrash, looking at Duncan as he comes into his peripheral.

"Do I have to move?"

"Do you want to move?"

"No," Roberto murmurs.

"Then don't move." Duncan circles gracefully around to the edge of the bed, drawing a silenced pistol from inside his coat.

Roberto bites his lip and savors the sight of him. He thinks he's expecting some sort of monologue, but no. Duncan merely sets the muzzle to the bound man’s temple and pulls the trigger.

He's beautiful.

When the body sags, a surprisingly neat spray of mess hidden by his lolled head, the silence rings with the absence of the gunshot.

Slowly, Duncan turns his attention to Roberto with flat dark eyes, and Roberto feels a twisting dart of warmth in his core. He can't speak for a moment, too scattered by the feeling, and then Duncan holds out a hand.

"Come on." Roberto lets himself be drawn off the bed, but Duncan only steps back, tucking his gun away and asking, "What do you need to take with you?"

"All the kinky stuff is his. Just need my bag." He stoops to pick up his shirt and shrugs it back on. "Do I have to worry about fingerprints or anything?" he stage-whispers.

"Are you in the system?" Duncan asks evenly.

Roberto pauses. "I'll get a cloth." He pulls a handkerchief out of his bag and surveys the room, wiping the side tables and the exposed arms and torso of the body.

"I have a better idea," Duncan mutters, taking a lighter out of his pocket. Roberto follows it with his eyes. "Untie him," Duncan tells him.

Roberto does, crossing to each wrist and tugging free the knots with the handkerchief. When he's done, Duncan tugs the body gently down the bed, and lights a cigarette from his breast pocket.

Roberto puts his hands on his hips. "Take your time, of course."

With a roll of his eyes, Duncan keeps the flame on the cigarette, puffing the smoke rapidly, the cherry burning down. When it sets slight in earnest, he throws it onto the bed, and watches as the bedsheets catch.

"Fuck," Roberto breathes. He grabs his bag and shoved his feet into his boots, letting Duncan lead him out of the room and quickly down the hall to a service stair.

They're out in the balmy air in minutes with the blare of the fire alarm ringing behind them, Duncan smoothing a hand back through his hair and pushing on his shades as they walk fast down toward the river, quickly lost in the bustle of the warm Parisian evening.

Roberto is trying to resist the urge to push him up against a building and simply climb him. He's seldom impressed by anyone, but Duncan seems to have swept into his life like a daydream, slick and darkly brooding, packing heat and issues for days. Roberto finds him mouth-watering.

"Where to, Mister?" he says softly, and Duncan's mouth crooks at the echo of their first meeting.

"My hotel room," he murmurs. "If you'd like to join me there."

"I brought you presents."

"And I just have the rest of your fee," Duncan frowns.

"Next time," Roberto shrugs. "Though it'd be a lie to say everything in this bag is for you."

"Oh?" Duncan hails them a cab and hands Roberto in.

"Oh." He smiles, watching him slide in beside him, reaching out automatically to touch.

"Want to tell me more?" Duncan asks after he speaks briefly to the cab driver, his French perfect and surprisingly delicate.

"You can't wait?"

"That sounds like the tone of voice you used on our friend," Duncan comments.

That throws Roberto for a moment. "Just my voice, handsome."

"I like your voice," Duncan murmurs.

"You seemed to, yeah."

"You seemed to like... today, fairly well," Duncan replies.

Sensing the question behind it, Roberto raises his eyebrows, voice soft. "I assume you asked for my benefit and not yours; not like you really needed some skinny little waif to tie your mark up for you."

"Variety of methods is a good thing in my business."

"Mm, I'm sure." He laughs. "You didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"Did you need me?"

"It's an arrangement that works for us both. I needed a mark distracted and in a pre-arranged location through a third party. The fact that the third-party is you is… a bonus."

Roberto lets it drop for now. Duncan doesn't seem to appreciate his prodding, despite initiating it.

They're back in Duncan's hotel room before they exchange proper conversation again, Duncan's canny eyes finding Roberto's as he pours him a short in the interim before the room service he ordered on arrival gets here.

"I need to ask you something."

"I'm all ears, Daddy."

Duncan appears to be thinking. "That night you called... was that part of the service?"

"You mean to ask, am I going to charge your card?" Roberto smirks faintly.

Duncan just waits.

"Do you want me to?" he tosses back to Duncan.

"I can afford you, if that's what you're asking, and I'm not tight fisted." He takes a long sip of his drink. "I have no problem buying what you're selling, or with you for selling it. I don’t expect you to give anything away."

"Yeah, I didn't think there was too much of a problem. You have a soft spot for sex-workers, don't you Duncan?"

Duncan's mouth twists, probably at the suggestion that he's soft. "They get a lot of unwarranted hassle."

"We do," Roberto agrees. What a fascinating man. "I didn't intend to charge you, no," he murmurs.

"Like I say, it's not paying I object to. I'm - clarifying expectations... motivations."

"I'm not faking it, if that's what you're wondering."

Another pause, this one slightly disbelieving. Duncan seems to be assembling ideas. Roberto can almost feel himself readjusting in response.

"When I asked about your prints being in the system before," Duncan prompts, eventually, "you've been arrested?"

"I'd probably still be in prison if my case hadn't been thrown out for procedural errors," Roberto says vaguely.

Duncan tilts his head. He doesn't ask the logical next question, though. Perhaps he doesn't need to.

Roberto smiles. "There are no current warrants for my arrest, if you're curious."

"You wouldn't be so quick to assist in an assassination, if there were."

Roberto just shrugs. "I might be, if I were reckless."

"You're a little reckless."

"I am, aren't I?" He licks his lips, looking Duncan over now that they have time to relax. "Now, please tell me what it is you're getting at, vagueness bores me."

"Just wondering if you'll answer my call again, I suppose."

"Huh." That dumbfounds him for a moment. "Well, why wouldn't I?"

Duncan sighs, and takes another sip of his drink. "I might bore you," he reasons, dryly.

"You certainly haven't yet."

"There's time."

"Speaking of time..." Roberto hums.

Duncan tilts his head, gaze turning solicitous. "Yes, Roberto?"

"Are you finished with your drink?"

Duncan drains it in answer.

Roberto laughs softly. "Another later, perhaps."

An answering shrug. Roberto isn't sure what mood he's in right now. He feels responsible for it, though. Somehow.

"What is it?" He tilts his head. "Please," he adds softly. Duncan seems to be suffering an uncharacteristic bout of self-consciousness. Roberto studies him for a moment. "Is this still about the other night?"

An affirming, doubtful silence answers him. That won't do. Roberto moves to him, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Did you think I was playing with you?" He could have been, he admits. Maybe he was, until he felt that warm, unexpected intimacy. Duncan's focus is a heady thing. "You fascinate me," Roberto tells him softly, "and not much else does."

Duncan looks up and slowly pulls him closer by the waist. "Fascination can still be indifferent."

"It can be. I think you know it isn't."

"If you say so."

Roberto finds a spot next to him on the mattress. "I am what I am," he admits softly. "But I do feel things." When Duncan just nods, he leans in to nose at him. "Don't you want to see your presents?"

He hears the inhale. "Sure," Duncan says, quietly. Roberto wonders how often he talks, usually. He suspects not often.

Standing, he stretches and goes to his bag. He pulls out a bundle of clothing first. Sets a pair of heels on the floor by the coffee table, and then continues. He can sense Duncan's attention now, but he ignores him. There's more things. Handcuffs, ostensibly for Augusten, and a couple of boxes, unopened as of yet: Roberto thought he could use some of his earnings on new toys, at least. Condoms, lube, a make-up bag, a toothbrush.

"Do you want to watch, or be surprised?" he purrs.

Considering, Duncan pours himself another drink. "Can I watch?"

"Of course, Daddy. I need to shower first."

“Go ahead.”

He’s barely ten minutes to shower the evidence of the evening’s activities away and brush his teeth, and then he comes back into the main suite in his borrowed robe and smiles at Duncan's immediate attention once more.

"Fancy place."

"It's okay," Roberto thinks Duncan is half smiling.

"You don't think?" He drops his robe, and Duncan's gaze is magnetized to the underwear he has on. Roberto smiles casually. "White lace, as requested."

Duncan doesn't speak, maybe because he can't trust himself to. With a smile, Roberto lifts a pale satiny slip dress from his bag and lets it fall down his body and into place. Then he sits down to do his makeup. Distantly, he's aware of Duncan watching him.

Roberto concentrates on his eyeliner. Nothing too much, just enough to accentuate. Lipstick, though, that's essential. He can feel himself start to settle into his body and his mindset as he works. His hair is long enough at the minute that a little tousling and a more extreme part add volume, and he spends a while just examining himself in the mirror.

Never far from him, Duncan gets up with visible reluctance to answer the door to room service, and then returns to pour Roberto a glass of champagne with a light hand.

"Fancy," Roberto mutters again, tilting his head back to give him a smile, letting Duncan look him over. He salutes him with the glass; puts on the finishing touches before he stands and, making sure Duncan is paying attention, steps into the heels. "Now," he says, "for the presents."

From his seat on the bed, Duncan visibly engages. Roberto glides over to the parcels and picks them up.

The little lockback from his bag suffices in slitting open the packaging. He extracts an innocuous-looking little black band, and a plug with a battery pack.

“What do you think?”

In answer, Duncan stares for several seconds and then nods quickly. “Good.”

"Good. They'll need to be washed," he says. Duncan tilts his head, questioning. "Perhaps you could do that for me?"

"All right." He comes to take the toys from Roberto, the heels putting them at a thrilling eye level. Predictably, he stalls, and raises one hand to Roberto's blushed cheek. "This is quite a surprise."

"Is it? Why?"

"I'm not used to people putting in much effort," Duncan replies. "Then again, I don't either."

"What's the point, without putting in effort? That makes it normal."

"My life is never normal," Duncan says, and leans in with a kiss for Roberto. A soft one that doesn't disturb his makeup.

"So neither should this be, right?" Roberto keeps him close with a hand in the front of his jacket.

Duncan's hand slips over satin to wrap around his waist. "Right."

With a smile, Roberto leans and kisses him again soundly. "You need something different every time, don't you, Daddy?" he murmurs. Duncan's breath is warm; he smells of tobacco and the sting of alcohol.

"I've never had anything like you before," he mutters.

Roberto laughs. "There isn't anything like me." He kisses him delicately, one more time. "Go wash those. Then come back and take off this ugly turtleneck."

With color climbing his cheeks, Duncan obeys. While he's gone, Roberto sips more of his champagne, and selects the handcuffs from before; two sets. He has so many ideas.

"Do you like these?" he asks Duncan, when he returns from the bathroom. He's watching for tells, more than anything else.

"If you're asking if I have handcuff related trauma, the answer is 'not yet'." Duncan's voice is matter-of-fact as he strips off his jumper. "I can get out of handcuffs." He's wearing a vest top under his sweater, and Roberto gestures for that to come off too.

"As fetching as it is," he teases. He licks his lips at the sight of hair and scars. "God, Duncan."

"What?" he says, retreating for his own glass of champagne.

"You're just. Beautiful."

He laughs at that. "I've never been called that before."

"Well, get used to it."

Duncan smiles. "Even bossier when you're wearing makeup."

"It's not the makeup, it's just me." Roberto smirks back at him.

"Maybe so."

"Exactly so. Lie down for me." Duncan pauses with his hands at his waistband. Roberto goes to assist him. "What a good idea. Let's get you stripped down."

He unfastens his flies and disrobes him slowly. Duncan, nude, is like some sort of artwork. An ageing prizefighter, or a weary philosopher. He can't hold back the little noise he makes at the sight of him, easing him back on the mattress and settling between his thighs.

Breathless just at his proximity, he can’t resist leaning down to kiss his stomach, leaving a few stark crimson flowers behind. He has all manner of kisses for this man. All over his skin, the crest of his hips, leaving lipstick smears in his wake. He chose it for that reason; for that and for how Duncan looks at it.

He pulls Roberto up now by his jaw and into a soft kiss. Such a contrast, this man. His hands on Roberto's skin feel like steel, his entire body hard and tensed and ready despite only a burgeoning semi to show for it. If Roberto didn’t know better, he’d say it was emotion. Either way, he needs him to slow down.

He strokes his hands through his hair slowly for a drawn out moment, leaning their foreheads together and letting Duncan work some of the tension out on a few long, yearning kisses.

"So you do get worked up after a kill." He purrs it, because he's appreciative, but Duncan just sighs. "I'm going to put these cuffs on now. That okay?"

"All right." He's so very still. Barely reacting as Roberto cuffs both hands to the bed posts.

"How do you get out of handcuffs?" Roberto asks curiously.

"My thumbs pop out of their sockets."

"That must hurt." Roberto touches one lightly.

"It's not so bad." He sounds distracted, watching Roberto.

"No? Not so bad?" He echoes it fondly, kissing Duncan's wrist; down to his elbow. Another few fading lipstick o’s. "Good."

With Duncan arching impatiently below him as he trails down his body, Roberto takes his time in making an arc from hip, to navel, back to hip. Then he sits up and reaches for the toys again.

“Ready?”

“Mm, yeah.”

With gentle hands and some lube, he starts to gently roll the little black band down Duncan's cock, smiling at his shivers as he secures it under his balls, checking the give. He’s pleased to feel him filling out from a few long, attentive strokes.

"You look so good," Duncan says finally, voice nearly hoarse.

"Do I?" Roberto flicks his hair. "Would you like to look at me some more?"

"Oh, yes." He shivers as Roberto secures the ring and, delicately taking his shoes off, stands up on the bed in front of Duncan, stretching so the hem of his dress lifts.

"Here I am."

Duncan's eyes focus on him, trailing up and down, his cock fattening ever more against his thigh, twitching just slightly as he takes in the view. Oh, the plans Roberto has for that. But first.

"You liked talking about sucking my cock the other night, didn't you Daddy?"

A nod. When Roberto steps closer, Duncan's chin tilts automatically up, lips seeking as Roberto hitches his dress up his hips. He's fond of the way he's filling out his lingerie now. Duncan seems plenty fond of it too, breath hitching when Roberto curls a hand in his hair and presses close.

"Good?"

"So good, Berto, I just want -" he doesn't struggle, but he leans up.

"What do you want?" He cups the base of his skull tenderly, cheeks warm at the sight of his raised eyes.

"Come closer."

Roberto complies, biting his lip at the sound Duncan makes when he brushes his cheek up against Roberto's underwear, stubble catching. Then he does it again. His lips smear against the lace. He breathes in, and Roberto can feel it.

"That good?"

He strokes at the nape of his neck, a little shudder going through him watching Duncan's eyes flicker closed. He opens his mouth and presses his tongue against the swell. "That's perfect," Roberto whispers. "Do what you like, this is all for you."

Duncan moans softly at that. Roberto pushes into his lips, just a bit. The hot press of Duncan's tongue draws another little shudder from him; makes him arch.

"Suck it," he murmurs. "Nice and wet."

The sounds he makes are heavenly, the pink plush of his lips and the low hum of pleasure as he sucks at the line of Roberto's cock through the fabric. Every time he stops, he looks up with a glittery dark gaze.

"That's perfect," Roberto praises softly, "you look beautiful."

"No," Duncan says. "You do."

"Mm, tell me again," Roberto whispers.

"You are so beautiful. Like a dream."

"Sounds like you have some very dirty dreams," Roberto observes.

That earns a rueful smile. Then Duncan sighs, attention returning to the outline of Roberto's cock through the damp lace. "Sometimes I do."

"About me?" He's unaccountably pleased.

"Yes, about you."

"Nn, now you have to tell me."

"I don't know - if I can do both -" He makes a half-aborted noise of displeasure when Roberto sinks down into his lap again, cupping his face.

"Just that, then."

He wonders how stubborn Duncan will be. Currently he's breathless. "Berto, it's - I'm not good at that."

"At talking? You did plenty good the other night."

A quiet groan. "Come down here."

"I'm down, baby."

"Kiss me," Duncan asks, hips rolling slightly.

Roberto does, adoringly.

"I dream about your mouth," Duncan says when they break apart. "About other things too but- when they're good. You."

"Oh, Daddy, you shouldn't tell me these things," he sighs and Duncan closes his mouth, uncertain. "I think about you too much already."

"Really."

"Really, Duncan. Do you think that was the first time I fucked myself while I thought of you?"

A low, rough groan escapes him at that. "Roberto..."

"Truth."

"Tell me," he pleads gently.

"Why don't I demonstrate on you?" Duncan makes a low noise, eyes flicking to where Roberto has left the new plug sit. "Yes?" Roberto noses at him.

"Please," he says in a low voice.

"Mmm, all right, Daddy." He reaches for the toy, a bottle of lube, and a rubber. Then he shifts between Duncan's thighs. "Need a pillow-?"

A shake of his head.

"Okay." He eases him down the mattress carefully, the cuffs scudding against the headboard, and wraps one lube-slicked palm around Duncan's cock after he’s dressed and done the same to the plug. "Have you used one of these before?" he murmurs.

Duncan shakes his head again.

"It's going to sit inside you," Roberto murmurs. "Making you feel so full, pressing against you..." When Duncan shifts, he hums. "And that's without me even turning it on." He sees Duncan's lips part, and smiles. "God, I can't wait to see you."

"See me," Duncan murmurs, finally speaking.

"Yeah, see you." He works his hand faster on his cock, and Duncan arches. "Ready?"

"Yes," Duncan nods, eyes fixed on Roberto's hands.

He doesn't shy when Roberto pushes his thighs wide and up, just adjusts to let him nudge the smooth nose of the silicone plug up against his hole, a teasing rub, spreading lube. Duncan's breaths go slow and shallow. He stays so very still.

Used to enduring things, Roberto understands. This thing, he thinks, will be different.

He keeps his hand moving, his own breath coming short. He strokes Duncan's cock again gently as he starts to press in earnest. "Okay-?"

"Yes, yes, okay," he breathes.

Roberto goes slowly as the width increases, but doesn't stop. Duncan's little groan makes him slow, though; ease back and push in again until it turns into an all-out moan; until his body swallows the toy almost to the base, rim straining at the fat flare. Unable to resist, Roberto turns it into a tease, tilting and rocking until he finds a sweet spot, feeling the contract and the jerk of his stomach muscles in return, cock pulsing.

“Still good?”

"Roberto-" It's panted out. _“Yes.”_

"Good, darling, good."

A few more noises, each in varying keys of helpless and aroused. It's like music to Roberto's ears. He didn't realize he'd like it quite so much. Though perhaps he should have, after the other night.

"Ready for the rest, love?" he whispers softly.

Duncan nods, thighs shifting even farther. When Roberto pushes, it snags, and then sinks all the way to the flared base. Duncan gasps. A few low, foreign swears while he shifts and settles.

Roberto shifts his focus back to his cock, flushed dark, velvety and thick in his hand. He bends his head to suck him slowly, tongue teasing under the crown. He concentrates on the soft skin beneath, letting his fingers play over the tight black ring at the base. He feels the moments Duncan tenses and relaxes around the plug from the way his thigh muscles bunch and loosen, like he’s experimenting – an appetizing thought.

"Tell me how it feels."

"It's a lot," Duncan murmurs.

"Too much?"

"No, no-" he exhales shakily, "no."

Roberto toys with the on-switch on the base. "Ready for more?"

Another nod. When Roberto flips the little switch, he has to raise his head to watch. Duncan's mouth falls open, his cheeks flooding with color. The sound that escapes him isn't quite loud enough to be considered vocal.

"That's good, isn't it."

Duncan stutters faintly, thighs straining, toes curling. Every muscle in his body seems suddenly pronounced. Roberto isn’t sure he even breathes, those first few seconds, until another moan escapes him in a rush.

"Should I leave it on while I ride you?"

"Fuck," Duncan mutters, vehemently, eyes tight shut.

"I take that as a yes?"

"I don't. I don't think I could last."

"Try," Roberto urges sweetly, stroking him slower.

Duncan groans again. "Get me ready?"

Roberto picks up another condom with a hum. He smooths it down to meet the ring, then rises up on his knees. He teases a finger into the band of his panties, watching as Duncan's attention becomes entirely despite the tremor in his thighs and the low buzz of the plug inside him. He gives a shaky exhale as Roberto cups himself and squeezes.

"Need a hand?" he asks, softly.

"Aren't you a little tied up right now?" Roberto laughs.

That makes Duncan bite his lip. "Later," he rasps.

"Mm, maybe." Roberto leans to kiss him, fingers slipping down to flick the speed of the vibration up a notch, just for a minute. He lets Duncan arch and gasp while he slips out of the panties. Then he turns it back down again, cupping his cheek gently, watching him pant and strain. "Okay, beautiful?"

"God, Berto, I need you. Please."

"Cute when you call me that," he remarks mildly, slicking up his cock slowly with lube.

He doesn't get an answer, just more avid eyes. He sort of adores Duncan's selective monosyllabism. He's eloquent in other ways. Like the way his stomach tenses and trembles as Roberto climbs into his lap.

"Ready?" he teases.

"Mm." He looks like he's bracing himself.

Roberto lines up with gentle hands and lets Duncan breach him slowly. The stretch, completely unprepared for, is raw and incredible. He moans deeply, feeling it throughout his core. Duncan's hands wringing in his cuffs are all he sees for a moment. His body bucks automatically up into Roberto's, seeking to fully sheathe itself, and he groans again at what must be the plug shifting inside him.

"That sounded like it felt good," Roberto breathes, rocking his hips down smoothly, overwhelmed by his own intense satisfaction.

"I feel so much," Duncan groans.

"You feel big as hell," Roberto purrs.

"All - for you-"

"God, it is isn't it?" He strokes down Duncan's chest and starts to fuck himself in earnest, smooth and slow but hard.

Duncan makes a rich, throaty noise in response, the tendons in his arms standing out as he rocks his hips up the best he can. Roberto closes his eyes and lets himself feel every coiled muscle. Satin froths across his thighs, Duncan thick and hard inside him, shedding heat beneath him; wanting openly. His face is a broken-open mask of want, and Roberto has to touch him. Gentle palms shaping coarse hair and muscle, stubble and satiny skin.

"Duncan, god. God, this is so good. Better than I imagined." He runs his hands through his own hair, over his own body.

It gets him another low groan. "Take it off?" Duncan breathes.

"What do you say?" Roberto laughs, like he's a child.

"Fuck. _Please_."

Slowly, with another long roll of his hips, Roberto pulls the slip up and off, shivering at the soft slap of his own heavy cock against his stomach. Duncan makes a low noise of approval. His eyes are bright and intent, muscles still coiled as he breathes through the sensations. His eyes devour Roberto's form.

"Move," he begs softly.

"That's what I want, Daddy. To ride you all night." Roberto doesn't even have to try to sound tempting.

"Fuck," Duncan groans.

Roberto leans back, hands clasping his thighs as he moves his body. He feels unspeakably powerful. Even more so when he reaches down and flicks the switch again.

Duncan's whole body jolts. Roberto is the one who makes the noise. He's stunning. Roberto simply craves him.

"That's it, baby," he whispers. "Oh, you're being so good."

Duncan's teeth flash with the effort of his restraint, sweat starting to glimmer on his chest and shoulders. It makes Roberto's breath come fast.

"Fuuuck," He tips his head back. He loves this, though he misses hands on him too.

After a few more leisurely rolls, he flicks the little battery pack back down to off, cupping Duncan's face there gently. He gives him a series of slow kisses. "Okay baby?"

"Okay," Duncan groans.

Roberto strokes his shoulders. "Wanna break?

Duncan shakes his head automatically. Roberto rocks down in another cycle of need, resting his forehead against Duncan's. He's starting to crest, he can feel it. He has to touch himself; to stroke fast as he works himself faster on Duncan's cock.

He can feel Duncan breathe his name. "Darling?"

"I want to see," Duncan whispers.

"Yeah? Want to watch me come all full of your cock?" He grins helplessly.

"Yes," Duncan replies. His throat moves on another heavy swallow. "Very much."

Roberto kisses his throat and neck gently. "Enjoy your reward, then."

He lets his hand move fast again, picking up once more, enticed by Duncan's gaze on him. Intoxicated. He's close; approaching saturation fast. Driven to give Duncan what he wants. It's raw and heady and gorgeous. Infinitely satisfying to make such a mess of him. He shoots hot and slick against Duncan's stomach, trembling and groaning through it.

Duncan whines softly.

"God," Roberto gasps, falling against him, hand still working the last lingering pulses of pleasure out, "fuck."

"So pretty," Duncan breathes. Beneath Roberto, he's disciplined as ever despite the faint tremor that goes through him, fingers faintly twitching.

"How did that feel?" Roberto whispers.

"Good... Good." He shudders on another exhale, and Roberto feels a twitch inside him; realizes with a little thrill that the plug is still vibrating faintly. Must have been one setting off.

"You held on, didn't you, Duncan?" he purrs.

"You told me to."

"And you're so good for me."

He nods shakily. "Berto, please."

He's enthralling. Easing off him and shutting the plug off completely now, Roberto sees to the condom before he kisses Duncan again softly. "Want these cuffs off a while?"

This time, a nod. His hands flex when Roberto releases him, and then grasp him quickly. They're rough and perfect.

"God, you're so hard," Roberto breathes. He runs a finger down his length. Duncan lets out a soft groan. "Should I take out the plug?" A little stutter at that. "I think I will. I'd like to use my fingers instead," Roberto murmurs.

"Whatever you want," is all Duncan can say.

Roberto kisses his chest and reaches for the base, circling it gently a few times before he starts easing it out. Duncan makes a ragged noise, maybe words, definitely not English, hips tilting up. His cock twitches against his stomach, so enticing that Roberto licks his teeth at the sight before he returns his attention to the task at hand. He works the rest of it out slowly.

From his peripheral, he sees Duncan's strong hands gripping the bedding and pillows, barely relaxing when he finally eases it back fully. Roberto traces the ring again. He noses at Duncan's inner thigh.

"All soft and open for me," he whispers, thumb stroking at wet pink skin.

"Fuck," Duncan grits. His body bows slightly. His hands find Roberto's shoulders.

He looks up at him, letting him catch his breath. "Feel good, Daddy?"

"I feel - a lot of things."

"Tell me."

"Like pins and needles," Duncan mumbles.

"Duncan," Roberto chides him, reaching for his wrists to rub them. “Do you need me to stop-?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Duncan's fingers stroke gently into his hair. His breathing is finally starting to steady. He could go longer, Roberto thinks. The thought makes him smile.

“Okay, baby. Okay.”

Sliding one finger inside him, Roberto licks slowly over the straining length of Duncan’s cock, lying fat and blushed against his hip. His other hand searches for the lube as he strokes his pink rim gently with his thumb.

"Fuck my mouth now, Duncan," he orders softly.

The care in Duncan's face when he drops his hands into Roberto's hair makes him throb with some unnamed want, a moan bubbling out of him as, fingers slick again, he lets himself be pushed down onto Duncan's cock. He pushes too, to stroke him from the inside. They'll both be filled.

Duncan rocks up hard, and his voice is wrecked when he gives a shuddering cry. Roberto can taste his desperation. He fucks him slow with three fingers, gaining momentum when Duncan's body opens up for more; when he swears at every caress as he tries to buck himself deeper into Roberto's mouth.

Roberto takes him as deep as he can, until he can feel his breaths threading; until he starts to taste of pure need. Then he crooks his fingers and presses, pulling back enough to suck.

Duncan comes like he hasn't for weeks, long floods that Roberto can barely contain, clenching around his fingers like a desperate thing. It's fucking incredible. His chest heaves with the bellows-force of his breaths. And his hands shake when he starts to pull Roberto off his cock with a wet slide, another weak groan escaping him, another dribble of his release spilling down his chin.

Wiping his mouth wetly on his hand, Roberto lets himself be moved. Both of them seem to need to catch their breaths, satisfied silence falling between them. Roberto rests against his chest, finding comfort in the scarred strength.

They only move so that Duncan can snap off the cock ring; flick it across the room like a projectile, making Roberto chuckle as he settles back against him with a hum at the hands stroking down his back.

"Dangerous little creature," Duncan tells him, words trailing off into some mother tongue.

Humming in agreement, Roberto leans up to get a bottle of water from the night stand, opening it up and giving it to Duncan. "You're an advocate for dangerous little things."

"I certainly haven't done anything to stop you."

"Quite the contrary," Roberto agrees, watching him take a long draw on the bottle. When he's set it aside and lit a cigarette, Duncan pulls him back down against his chest. It's all the aftercare he seems to want. He strokes Roberto's hair slowly, silence considering.

"Can I ask about prison?"

"You can ask."

"What were you in for?"

"Murder," Roberto tells him, easily enough.

Duncan strokes his hair. "You were guilty?"

"Do you doubt it?"

"You like watching."

It's dizzying, how quickly he cuts to the core of him. "Are you an analyst now?" Roberto says lightly.

"Just a man who knows killers."

"I could kill," Roberto retorts.

"But you don't like to." He looks Roberto up and down. "Because it's messy."

Mouth forming a faint moue, Roberto shrugs. "I don't mind a little mess."

"No," Duncan contradicts softly. "You just like to be messed up."

Roberto allows a short silence to fall, and then shrugs. "Battling for dominance isn't my thing. I don't want dominance. I was charged as an accessory to rape and murder -" he curls his lip, "not my thing either - and sentenced to eight years."

"And then it was thrown out," Duncan says, clearly remembering. He frowns. "You almost sound like you didn't mind going."

Roberto shrugs again. "That's none of your business."

"As you say," Duncan replies. He strokes Roberto's curls back, then touches his lower lip, swollen from kisses and sex, pink with the stain of crimson lip paint. "It can't have been easy for you."

"I survived. That's what I do." He gives Duncan a moment to think about that while he gets up and uses a fancy hotel towel to wipe the sweat, semen and lipstick off them both, amused at his own smeared mascara trails when he glances in the mirror.

When it’s done, he curls back up and kisses the marks from the cuffs that ring Duncan's wrists.

"I could have gotten free if I'd wanted," Duncan reminds him.

"I know, Daddy." He curls back into his arms with a sigh. "Did you like it?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Duncan rumbles. They both chuckle a little. "Did you?" Duncan asks.

"God, yes." He lets himself slump even further into Duncan. "I'm keeping you."

"Keeping me?"

"Yep. You'd better keep that phone."

"Of course." Duncan ticks his cheek against the top of Roberto's head. "I suppose this means you want a movie."

"I said I did, didn't I?"

Duncan smiles, letting him grab the remote and shift so they're more comfortably propped together, watching the TV. He even lets Roberto pick.

Curled against him, his warm arms around him, Roberto could almost pretend for a minute that this is normal. But, he thinks with a smile, what would be the fun in that?


End file.
